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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28171365">A Life in Parts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLyssa/pseuds/CaptainLyssa'>CaptainLyssa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Discovery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Drama, Eventual Culmets, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:40:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,658</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28171365</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLyssa/pseuds/CaptainLyssa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Why is Paul Stamets the way his is? What made him so snarky? What happened in his early life to be so rude when meeting Hugh? How did Straal form a friendship with the prickly Scientist? First chapter Stamets/other but eventually Culmets. After all, someone had to kick Paul in the but to get him interested in Hugh.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets, Paul Stamets &amp; Justin Straal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part 1: Dr. Lye's Challenge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>1) yes, it’s been done a million times before, but I wanted to put my stamp on Culmets.<br/>2) yes, it’s a how they met, ignoring the comic, which I have read.<br/>3) yes, it’s cannon compliant and pre series.<br/>3) I haven’t been writing for months, this fic has solved my block.<br/>4) finally, the real Paul Edward Stamets is one of five children, his older brother is John, his twin North, younger brother Bill and sister Lilly. As I preferred the name John, I’ve used this for ST:Paul who also has a younger brother and sister, not that they feature in this story. I’ve also used the real Paul’s parents’ names, Patricia (Patty) Ann and William (Bill).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re about as emotionally receptive as your mushrooms!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dr. Jason Lye, current and exasperated lover to Dr. Paul Stamets threw the comment over a well sculpted shoulder. In no possible way could the irritated words be considered pleasant. The tall, strikingly good looking and well-built individual climbed from the warmth of newly rumbled sheets. Half hooded hazel eyes, often described as stunning, stated while some desires had been very well sated, others remained less so.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bright blue irises emerged slowly, deliberately, from under sleepy lids, watching, analysing, evaluating each and every move, before Stamets shrugged deliberately and dispassionately. Observing his soon to be ex-lover search for his clothing, Paul admired Jason Lye’s naked form one last time, while considering the confrontational language it gave off from the comfort of his recumbent position. Locating underwear, the frustrated man stepped into the scrap of satin meant to titivate before retrieving a more fashionable set of pants, carefully selected for tonight’s date in the hope their romance would turn into a relationship. Sitting on the side of the messy bed, one foot quickly followed the other into creased jeans.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re not even going to argue with me,” Jason demanded, pausing for a moment, twisting to observe Paul laying calmly on the other side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why waste time and words when you already know the answer,” Stamets yawned, snuggling back into his pillow. It gave off the musky sent of sex and felt incredibly warm as he refused to consider the furious man further.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In a few hours they’d both be gone from this hotel room and the planet hosting the Conference sponsored by Starfleet into new and novel scientific methodology. While Paul would never regret the last four fervidly consuming nights, Jason’s undivided attention culminated in a natural conclusion to their short-lived tryst. Paul refused be affected by the holiday affair when they’d be tens of light years apart after returning to their normal lives. <em>Normal</em> being the operative word. Besides, as Jason indicated, he soon be back with his beloved mushrooms and married to his work until the next time some overbearing administrative type decided he needed to present a paper in person. Dr Stamets would dabble with an interpersonal relationship at that time, well aware his assignations never lasted past sating his lust.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, this, this thing between us,” Jason demanded while making a clicking noise with his fingers, “it’s over, just like that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What did you expect,” Paul gave a colossal, theatrical sigh, ignoring the fact his heart started to beat just a little faster. He always hated this part of the conference, when his chosen bed mate realised their time together came to a natural conclusion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No discussion, no attempt to stay in contact,” Jason rolled his eyes, finally understanding his own emotions whilst truly observing Paul’s for the first time without the haze of desire. “I thought you cared about me, about us. Wanted to building something lasting. After all the time we’ve spent together over the last few days, I even considered…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sighing, Paul wondered why he’d bothered to pick up the man in the first place. His holiday romances always ended the same way, with his lover’s wanting more than he felt able to give, especially as the years passed. Stamets understood he could attract men with is astute, acerbic wit and strikingly unusual appearance. He could even keep them interested for a few days or weeks if he bothered to try. However, once they realised Dr Paul Stamets was effectively married to his work and called his fungi ‘kiddo’, even being a well versed and consummate lover paled into insignificance against forgotten dates and experiments lasting all weekend. Eventually they became discouraged, disappointed, despondent and disappeared, leaving Paul’s heart with yet another painful bruise. He’d learnt the subtle art of emotional self-defence when his first lover walked away without a backward glance at the tender age of eighteen. It shattered his very young and naïve heart as his mind came to understand reality to be a cruel and egotistical mistress. Now, he left before his traitorous organ could consider any kind of meaningful bond, before it could get hurt in the process and shattered into a million pieces for the second time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am a great many things,” Paul answered satirically, “but in love with you, or even on my way to being so, is not one of them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jumping up, Jason pulled his shirt over his head. Pivoting to glare, he spat, indicating the obviously well used sheets and sent still wafting around the room, “then what the hell is this? What has the last four days been about? You haven’t been able to keep your hands to yourself, Paul. The moment that door closed, you become a different person…” Hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand after a short pause, Jason Lye suddenly understood. Shaking his head, the Biologist felt used but unaccountably sad for the man hiding his true personality under layers, possibly years, of hurt and humiliation. “You now,” he ground out in a tight voice tinged with regret, “you’re going to become a lonely, bitter old man if you don’t let someone in. You’re looks and ability to please will fade with time while the rest of us look for something more fulfilling than a casual fling. It’s going to take a saint to have any kind of profound relationship with you if you continue to show only that hard shell you use to protect your heart.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe,” Paul responded at his snarky best, blue eyes boring into the individual forcing the truth upon him, “I’m not in the market for a relationship.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason offered a tight, desolate smile. “Keep telling yourself that, Paul, and maybe one day you’ll believe it. The more often you sabotage any chance of finding someone who’s willing to put in the time and effort to break down your barriers, who wants to love you, the greater the probability it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you can’t be honest with me, at least be honest with yourself. A relationship, a true love affair that passes the test of time and possibly distance, can’t survive any other way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Finally dressed, Jason ran his fingers through his hair roughly, pausing to watch Paul’s reflection the mirror. Offering a final olive branch before stepping out the door, Jason said, “you have my contact details. If you manage to find that honesty, give me a call. Maybe we can start over. Underneath that exterior….”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t hold your breath,” Paul muttered, before burying his head beneath a pillow and attempting to stop the words stinging his ego.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Several hours later, Dr. Paul Stamets rose from the bed without catching more than a few minutes rest. His mind simply wouldn’t stop thinking, considering, analysing, not that it did at the best of times. This time, Jason’s final words, not said with the usual heated anger Paul expected from a current lover, stayed with Stamets longer than they should. He took them apart, scrutinised them in every possible way, put them back together again attempting to find fault, error, only to come up with the startling conclusion that the biologist hit the preverbal nail on the head. Dr. Jason Lye had been more emotionally intuitive and eloquent in his argument than any of his previous liaisons and Paul let him slip though his fingers. It seemed the older he became, the more of his colleagues paired off, marrying, starting families. They wanted permeance, love, a home.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“When,” Stamets berated himself in the mirror, dressing carefully for the final session before returning to his mycelia, “am I ever going to learn. Just like my fungi, sometimes one specimen <strong><em>can</em></strong> surprise me. Then again, my mushrooms are my life. If I ever find someone who understands that…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Although he looked for Dr. Lye, it seemed Jason didn’t want to be found. Shrugging off the universes sense of humour, Paul didn’t know what he’d say, even if he managed to locate his now ex-lover. Sorry just didn’t seem enough, still those last biting words remained with him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Paul Edward Stamets appreciated many facts about himself. More so, now he had countless, empty hours on the shuttle back to Deneva. He comprehended his own astounding intelligence at a very young age. He understood others considered him gifted, but emotionally detached. He knew relationships were not in his vocabulary and he’d never expected to sustain a connexion to another human being. It seemed he might have been in error about that last point. Something he would have to consider at length.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At two years old, when his twin brother, John, wanted to sit on their mother’s knee and play with trucks, Paul preferred his own company, lining up his toys, placing them in ever more complex groupings. Worried, Patty Stamets took her child to be examined, especially as the family were expecting another addition in the near future. The doctor listened to the concerned parents while watching the child play happily in the corner.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Paul,” he called, several times before obtaining the child’s attention. Handing a PADD over, with a stylus, Dr. De León requested, “can you write you name, please?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why?” demanded the toddler, watching this adult with suspicion in his startling blue eyes. The older man observed and smiled easily, but said nothing, causing Paul to make an annoyed sound. “Why should I when I can talk to it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because,” those dark eyes turned amused, “I believe you can do it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Challenged, Paul Stamets quickly proved Dr. De Leon correct. Asked to read the text scrolling on the screen, the child complied until it became overly complexed for his young mind. Allowed to go back to playing, he listened to the discussion between the adults instead of concentrating on his game.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think what you have here,” Louis stated unequivocally, “is a case of intelligence that is not being correctly stimulated. Your child is working at a level well above his age, Dr. and Mrs. Stamets. As I understand it, you have a PhD in Engineering, Bill?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What about John?” Patty looked at the placid child on her lap, while her husband watched on thoughtfully. Patricia Anne Stamets held her own, intellectually, with a degree in accounting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They are fraternal twins,” Louis explained. The difference in hair and eye colour stated that fact eloquently. “Paul’s mind works in a different way from John’s, just as any two brothers born separately might. They only shared a womb, not identical genetics. If you want to give Paul the stimulation he requires, I suggest we admit him for a few days and have the paediatric team assess his intelligence. They’ll be able to devise a plan to help your growing family cope with, what I suspect, might be a very gifted young man.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time his sister made her entry into the family four years later, Paul Edward Stamets had finished the syllabus for elementary school. By the age of fourteen he graduated high school. That’s when the arguments with his parent’s started, over a placement at a very prestigious university.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m divorcing you,” Paul told them calmly as he offered the official PADD, attempting to hold back his more biting thoughts. He’s spent hours researching the legalities, finding a solicitor, and getting the decree. A fourteen-year-old, living on their own, even with universal basic sustenance, had precedent, but not often since the establishment of United Earth Governmental law.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’ve decided to accept the university placement then?” Bill Stamets demanded, obviously unhappy with this situation. He didn’t want his eldest son so far from the family. The invitation to study with a group of like-minded kids meant Paul would be the youngest in his class, and one of the brightest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nodding, Paul picked up his duffel and never looked back, even if he missed his family on occasion. Two years later he had his first degree, in biology and started on his second in physics. He’d long suspected the two aspects of science were intertwined at a quantum level but hadn’t be able to prove it. Since that day in the children’s ward, when a nurse handed him a book by his name sake, Paul Stamets became fascinated with mushrooms. It took some time to understand the concepts written two centuries before, however, they opened his young mind to possibilities. Using his imagination, tangential thought allowed consideration of theories beyond even his ability to prove.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On the eve of his seventeenth birthday, Paul Stamets met the man about to teach him a valuable life lesson. He fell hard and fast for a Senior. Phillip Duncan asked for his help to pass Advanced Quantum Theory. Study sessions lead to dates, dates lead to passion and falling into Phil’s bed more often than not. Expecting the older man to dump him once the semester ended and he no longer needing Paul’s help, Stamets had been surprised when the liaison continued past Phil’s graduation. The end of their relationship occurred not with a bang but a long, slow, drawn out whimper. Offered a PhD research project into the development of panspermia on Deneva, a world currently being terraformed, Paul Stamets jumped at the opportunity without discussing it with his partner of almost two years. Phil hadn’t been happy, but decided to give the long-distance thing a go, until he found a better offer. It turned out Paul’s fears had been justified and once he left, Phil’s need for physical comfort outweighed any emotional attachment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look, Paul, you’re great in bed,” Phil stated over the com, rumpled sheets and a stunningly naked man in the background, “and if you were here, I might not have found Tyrone so irresistible. Besides, we both knew this would never last forever and your more interested in your mushrooms than me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tyrone snickered in the background, as if Phil discussed his ex-boyfriend in derogatory terms. Paul ended the call immediately, walled off his shattered heart and put his energy into more practical applications, refusing to grieve but learning a valuable life lesson. A few months later, Paul’s doctoral supervisor demanded he present a paper from his current research. Dr. Qiu Tanaka, an older researcher, hadn’t been backward in coming forward, finding Paul attractive, intelligent and in the market for a short-lived, torrid affair. Ten years later, Dr. Paul Stamets still managed to find his sexuality satisfied with a few nights of passion once or twice a year, his mushroom research fulfilling his desire for academic acclaim the rest of the time. Until one Dr. Jason Lye had the audacity to call him out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It changed everything.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part II: Enter Dr Culber, Stage Left.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The following year three events occurred changing the direction of Dr. Paul Edward Stamets life. Nine months passed before his team were required to present not only a paper, but a full day at Starfleet’s Annual Science Conference. The Senior Research Director dumped the project in Paul’s very unwilling lap. He had six weeks to get his team together, prepare the lectures and discussion sessions, submit a plan and make revisions with the conference convener on Alpha Centauri. Not to mention, a full 13 days of transit time between Deneva and his destination.</p><p> </p><p>The subject of his project, Panspermia in Terraforming. Apparently, Starfleet found the idea interesting enough to devote an entire day to the theme. Dr. Stamets should feel flattered by the interest. He didn’t. The thought leaving his lab caused Paul severe anxiety after the last attempt at social interaction, diminishing the accolade substantially and making him impossibly grumpy.</p><p> </p><p>“Why me?” Stamets demanded of Nadine Fourie, a colleague and fellow Mycologist as he marched into his lab minutes after being cornered by the Director.</p><p> </p><p>Shrugging her shoulders, the PhD student returned to her work. It seemed Dr. Stamets really didn’t react well to his boss's dictate. The staff at the institute knew about the assignment weeks ago and had been waiting for the fall out. More often than not, Dr. Stamets conversations tended to be sarcastic, his ire aimed at whoever stood closest when something upset him. Nadine didn’t want to be that person.  Besides, she had to finish her current experiment if she wanted any chance of presenting her first professional work at the upcoming symposium.</p><p> </p><p>Muttering under his breath, Paul knew why he’d been chosen for this assignment. Most of the current theory on Panspermia came from his last PhD thesis and the resulting research. It made sense for the Scientist-in-Charge to be the delegate from Deneva. Any other twenty-nine-year-old would jump at the accolade, the opportunity to advance their career. To become a Scientific Director, you needed to play the political game. Perhaps, more importantly, Dr. Stamets refused to attend the last conference, where he’d been invited as the key note speaker. Displaying little interest in this one sealed his fate. He didn’t need a short-lived affair. Dr. Lye’s words still resonated with both his head and heart, negating his need for a torrid, short-lived sexual encounter. Besides, his work could be displayed without attending and still get his discoveries into the general scientific community.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to go!” the words exploded, causing Nadine to evacuate the lab on a flimsy pretext.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, Paul knew the reason, the reason he didn’t want to attend. He might see Jason again. So many nights, he’d almost called the man, fingers hovering over the connect button on his personal PADD. He owed Dr. Lye an apology at the very least. Yet, something always stopped Stamets making the call. It made him grumpy, well, grumpier than usual, and snarkier, if you could believe the rumours on the station. He’d never had good relationships with the students forced on him, or his colleagues for that matter. This last few months, he’d been downright impossible.</p><p> </p><p><em>And</em>, Stamets finally admitted to himself, <em>that’s the reason the Director’s sending you. Suck it up and just get on with planning this thing! Maybe you’ll be so busy at the conference with the administration types, you won’t mind going back to an empty bed at the hotel.</em></p><p> </p><p>Arriving seventy-two hours early, Paul met the conference convener in person as he stepped off the transport. Until this point, they’d communicated via text and voice message. A tall and stunning Soyran, as were most of her race, greeted him personally as he stepped off the transporter pad. It didn’t take long to realise she lived and breathed administration. Senha’s micromanagement skills made Paul’s pale into insignificance. He rather liked the woman, but Stamets felt drained after a single day of organisational duties. He had to wonder why an intelligent being chose this for her life’s work.</p><p> </p><p>Going through a list of the other presentations and speakers, Paul noticed Jason Lye’s name as an attendee. Hunting though his personal PADD, he found the contact details easily. Throwing the electronic device across the room in a fit of temper, once again the memories came unbidden. The trouble with an eidetic memory, Stamets recalled not only every word, but each expression crossing Jason’s hansom face as he laid down his challenge. The second night, Paul’s fingers hovered over the details before the PADD once again flew across the room. On the final night before the delegates arrived, Paul Stamets finally found the courage to make the call. Heart hammering, adrenalin pumping through his veins, the seconds between the devices linking over light years seemed to last a lifetime.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello,” a woman appeared on the screen.</p><p> </p><p>Shocked, Paul wondered if he had the correct address. Jason inputted the data himself, so that shouldn’t be a possibility. “I was hoping to speak with Dr. Lye. My name is Dr. Paul Stamets.” <em>There</em>, Paul thought, <em>that sounds innocuous enough. One professional calling another on the eve of a major conference. Nothing strange in that. Did Jason ever mention a sister? </em></p><p> </p><p>“The Astromycologist?” the woman sounded a little intrigued. “My husband said he met you at last year’s conference. I’m sorry, he’s in transit. Jason should be arriving tomorrow afternoon, but, as you can see, he forgot his personal PADD.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” Paul tried to keep a straight face, feeling his brows furrowing. It caused the image on his PADD to laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“I know about your affair, Dr. Stamets, and how it ended,” the woman’s deep green eyes twinkled, marking her humour as gentle. “I have to thank you. If you hadn’t been so abrasive with Jason, he wouldn’t have reconsidered the direction of his own life. A shoulder to cry on can become the foundation on which something more permanent is built.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad I could be of assistance,” Paul stated, the sarcastic wit he become synonymous with finally making an appearance, overpowering his anxiety. It seemed Jason’s wife threw down her gauntlet. Stamets had no intention of picking it up.</p><p> </p><p>“No, you’re not,” she responded easily. Expression changing subtly, the woman added, “I’m an architect, Dr. Stamets, not a scientist. My profession seeks to build beautiful structures, not understand the meaning of the universe.”</p><p> </p><p>Paul glared, eyes narrowing, not wanting to understand, but taking her meaning anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“I know my husband will be happy to catch up with you. I’ll let Jason know you called. You can reach him on his professional PADD. I’m sending the details now.”</p><p> </p><p>Disgruntled by the conversation, Paul decided to find somewhere in this city that served a drink stronger than the synthol his hotel room replicatior produced. Knowing Dr. Lye married left a bitter taste in Stamets throat. He knew Jason felt attraction to both men and women, so finding a wife hadn’t been the issue. The fact he managed to fall for someone and commit to a lifetime meant he’d been serious about initiating a relationship with Paul despite his work, their distance and any other obstacles that might be in their way.</p><p> </p><p><em>I missed the opening Jason gave me by waiting too long. How many opportunities have I ignored since my breakup with Phil? Because of my breakup with Phil?</em> Stamets knew he couldn’t answer that question. But, he intended to take the next offering, run with it, and see how far it would go. <em>A shattered heart can be mended, eventually. Not taking a chance, could be devastating.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>After an hour of walking around the city in solitude and chasing never ending thoughts around in his head, Paul found the Lake House Café. Situated on an island within an extinct caldera, it overlooked the cities botanical gardens. They’d been established a century ago by human colonist in an attempt to take away the pain of moving lightyears from their ancestral home. Finding an empty table, Paul slumped into the chair.</p><p> </p><p>The deepening dusk cascaded through the floor to ceiling window, transforming the quaint room into warm, serene space. Bathed in the golden orange light of Rigil Kentaurus, Alpha Centauri’s G type star, Paul could have been on Earth. As the evening meal hour approached, the staff prepared for the oncoming rush. Right now, only a handful of patrons remained.</p><p> </p><p>That would change as the binary systems white dwarf entered the sky, subjecting this planet to almost continual light half a year from now. The beauty and tranquillity of the place would attract tourist throughout the day and sun lit night. Still, Dr. Stamets closed his eyes and enjoyed the last of the single sun set and wondered what it would be like to have someone sitting by his side, enjoying the sight, the feeling, with him.</p><p> </p><p>His pleasant thoughts were interrupted by the service person delivering an expresso martini. Jason told him to let something penetrate that hard-outer shell. Paul decided to start with a small change. He’d never been a big drinker, other than coffee or the occasional glass of wine with a meal. He’d never tried a cocktail but decided it might be time to start experiencing different sensations, especially in his current mood. A coffee-based liquor seemed to be daring enough without going overboard.</p><p> </p><p>Calling for a second once the stars started to twinkle in the inky sky, Paul felt the buzz of real alcohol enter his system. He watched in silence, unaware of the change in the crowd around him. Sighing, he knew the café would soon become filled with background noise. Preparing to finish his drink and leave, Paul wondered what the remainder of the night held for a lonely man, fast approaching thirty and consumed by his work.</p><p> </p><p>That’s when he heard a hideous humming coming from a nearby table. The noise intruded on his final moments of tranquillity, his mind still for the first time in months. Turning to look at the offender, the handsome individual fit Paul’s type. Swallowing, his mouth watered with the first flush of lust. Not too tall but stunningly good looking. Dark hair and eyes in a skin with enough melanin to make his own seem white by comparison. Good cheer rolled off the man in waves. His choice in music might be upbeat, but his tone and rhythm needed a lot of work.</p><p> </p><p><em>Besides</em>, Paul groused internally, <em>who even attempts to hum Kasseelian opera! The performers train their whole lives for a single performance and this guy has the nerve…</em></p><p> </p><p>“Hey, stifle it or sit somewhere else,” the bitting words were out before Paul could stop himself. Honesty, he decided, might just be the best policy. After all, look what happened last time he picked up a guy at a bar and lost him thanks to his own inability to be truthful, open and sincere. “You’re so far of key…”</p><p> </p><p>Picking up his drink, the stranger quirked an expressive eyebrow. Holding the tumbler in a toast, he took a very deliberate sip, giving Paul the once over. Dark eyes shone with approval. Stamets tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as it suddenly became dryer than the Sahara Desert. While his biting words shut the man up, Paul felt like a bug under his microscope and unaccountably at a loss as to what to do or say next. Collecting his PADD, the man stood. Stamets watched, open mouthed as he moved, lithely, not away as expected, but into the seat beside him. It evoked a feeling of intimacy as the stranger’s drink found its place on the table next to Paul’s empty glass.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel,” that eyebrow lifted again, challengingly. The voice smooth, washing over Stamets like warm honey.</p><p> </p><p>“I detest opera, Kasseelian more than any other variety,” Paul responded with a sneer. It seemed he’d had just enough alcohol to negate the filter between his brain and mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” the comeback almost immediate, chocolate eyes bored into Stamets, demanding an answer. When Paul couldn’t find a rapid response, the stranger once again picked up his glass, swirling the amber liquid around and waiting expectantly. “You’re informed enough to know there is more than one variety and that music is played in key. Surely you must know why you don’t like the entire genera?”</p><p> </p><p>“The high notes hurt my ears,” Stamets confessed, only to be met with a hearty laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you should attend an actually performance and not listen to bad recordings,” he smiled, the warmth making his brown eyes melt into liquid chocolate. “It might change your opinion. There’s an Earth company playing tomorrow night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you asking me out on a date?” Paul requested, astounded.</p><p> </p><p>“Would you like it to be a date?” the stranger returned, the corners of his lips now curling.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!”</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Paul Edward Stamets found himself in uncharted territory. Firstly, being honest with himself. Secondly, attracted more strongly to another being than he’d ever experienced before. Thirdly, wanting, more than anything, for this to be real, to get to know this amazing man sitting beside him. Finally, being on the backfoot by not asking for the first date. It struck him, in that moment, since Phil, he’d been the activist, setting the pace, leading the dance, determining when, where and how far a new relationship progressed. For the first time in over ten years, this stranger took hold the situation and Paul Stamets had to hold on for the ride.</p><p> </p><p>The moment broke as a server cleared his throat. Placing another expresso martini before Paul, he scurried away. Stamets returned his eyes to the strangers, expecting the rapport to be obliterated, the offer to be rescinded.</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” he answered, as if the interruption hadn’t occurred. “It’ll give me a chance to change your mind.”</p><p> </p><p>“About opera?” Paul asked, somewhat confused.</p><p> </p><p>“About romance,” the stranger qualified. Stamets obvious perplexed expression caused another warm chuckle which increased Paul’s already elevated heart rate. “Opera is about romance, often star-crossed lovers doomed to disappointment or death. Kasseelian more than any variety as the soprano works her entire life, plunging a dagger into her heart once she hits that final high E. Isn’t that the real reason you don’t like opera?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe,” Paul’s voice sounded unsure to his own ears. “How can you tell that, we only just met.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your face,” the stranger lifted a hand, his eyes asking, seeking permission, before he made contact. When those soft, warm fingers touched Paul’s brow, the furrows disappeared. A thumb caressed his eyelids, forcing them to close for a moment. The brush of sensual, heated palm against his cheeks creating a blush that crept lower than it should. “That’s not the alcohol, causing your capillaries to dilate. It’s the flush of hope that something wonderful might be happening between us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Something wonderful is happening between us,” Paul stated, blue eyes piecing the stranger’s soul while his head lent into that warm, welcoming touch. This seemed so natural, so right, so honest. “Let me get you another drink.”</p><p> </p><p>Nodding, the man finished the liquid in his glass, allowing his opposite hand to continue down Paul’s neck before losing the connection by withdrawing his touch. “Then, dinner. I know a place, not far from here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you live in the city?” Paul asked, unwilling to let the magic end by asking overly personal questions.</p><p> </p><p>Throwing his head back, the stranger finally offered his hand. “Hugh Culber, and yes, I’m stationed here, at least for the next three months. However, you are not seeing the inside of my quarters until at least the third date.”</p><p> </p><p>“Paul Stamets and I wouldn’t dream of it.” For perhaps the first time in his adult life, he meant every word.</p><p> </p><p>The following four days Paul uncovered Hugh’s history on their first and second dates. Over dinner at a quiet, out of the way restaurant serving Porto Rician food, Stamets uncovered Hugh grew up on Earth, entered Starfleet and became a doctor. Dr. Culber graduated medical school four years previously, deciding to get his shipboard assignments out of the way early. A place in medical research opened up on Alpha Centauri after his third tour of duty. Jumping at the opportunity of posting planetside, the position added to his already impressive resume.</p><p>At the opera, two nights later, Stamets observed Hugh’s love of music. Secretly, he’d put up with the ear piecing notes to see the range of expressions on his date’s features. He loved each and every one of them. Understanding this wonderful thing between them could grow into something more, if only he chose to put the time and effort into it.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, the conference over, Dr. Stamets and his team were required back on Deneva. Paul had never felt so wretched, saying good bye to a man he’d spent two evenings with. A man who’s bed he didn’t manage to worm his way into and wouldn’t, until Hugh let him. Even with Hugh’s contact information stored in his PADD, Paul’s emotions were running higher than he’d expected.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll call you, tomorrow, after we get back to the research station,” Stamets promised.</p><p> </p><p>Nodding, Culber pulled him in for a full-bodied hug and passionate, almost demanding kiss. Hugh forced Paul’s lips open, turning the event into a promise. They’d shared a peck after dinner that first night, a more consensual and pleasing meeting of lips at the completion of the opera. This, this farewell gave Paul hope something might just come from meeting such a wonderful man.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you will,” Hugh offered, pulling way slowly, before pivoting on his left foot and marching toward the exit.</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s that?” Nadine asked. Her eyes followed the man in Starfleet whites, appreciating his physique. Flicking her gaze back to Dr. Stamets, she’d never seen that dreamy look on his face before, or the shy smile almost allowing his lips to curve upwards.</p><p> </p><p>“My boyfriend,” Paul stated. Stamets never though he’d say those words again and mean them.</p><p> </p><p>“Wish I’d met him first,” Nadine huffed. “Still, all the good ones have bad taste.”</p><p> </p><p>Paul gave her one of his looks, which stopped further conversation on the shuttle. However, it seemed Nadine couldn’t wait to divulge this nugget of gossip to everyone at the research station the moment she returned. Three people interrupted Stamets while he called Hugh after arriving home. In the ten years he’d been stationed on Deneva, he’d never had so many individuals request admittance to his quarters.</p><p> </p><p>“Someone’s suddenly popular,” Hugh downplayed the incident with humour.</p><p> </p><p>Paul kept the holographic communication going as he got rid of the third interruption. They’d been in contact exactly nine minutes. So far, Stamets manage to throw his kit on his bed and open it. Finally, able to bundle up his dirty clothing, he dumped them into the fresher, along with the shirt and pants he’d worn for the last forty hours.</p><p> </p><p>“Apparently,” Paul responded sarcastically, searching through his cupboard for something more comfortable. It seemed completely natural to change in front of Hugh’s image.</p><p> </p><p>“You know it’s because their happy for you,” Culber tisked. “Aren’t you going to change your underwear?”</p><p> </p><p>“You really mean shocked that I have a boyfriend!” Paul rolled his eyes, removing his briefs and ignored the second part of Hugh’s question. He preferred to go commando to bed, so pulled on his sleep pants after throwing his boxers in the general direction of the fresher. Catching Culber’s pout as he covered up, Stamets grinned, knowing their next date would get physical.</p><p> </p><p>“Which part of that sentence do you want to tackle first?” Hugh enquired, one eyebrow rising.</p><p> </p><p>“Boyfriends a given,” Paul shrugged, “so I guess we’ll go with shocked.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be on Earth next month and I’d like to take you to the Met,” Hugh waved away Stamets last comment. “Think you can make it? They have an exhibition of de Kooning’s.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you have any other artistic bents I need to know about?” Paul demanded.</p><p> </p><p>“Third date,” Hugh teased, “maybe you’ll find out.”</p><p> </p><p>Smiling, something Paul Stamets rarely allowed others to witness, he teased, “looking forward to it. Send me the date, and I’ll request leave.”</p><p> </p><p>As it turned out, Dr. Paul Stamets didn’t need too.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Part III: Enter Staal, Stage Right</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Admiral,” the Lieutenant offered in a tight voice, even if his slightly reptilian features hid his growing anxiety, “have you read the report on Deneva? More especially the section on mining.”</p><p> </p><p>“What is your point, Mr. Kapono?” Watching her aid carefully, Nomi Hyacynth put her primary degree in exomedicine, and thirty years’ experience as a Starfleet Officer to use. From the subtle changes on the Reposian’s features, obviously she’d missed something vital in the article and her new aid wanted to call attention to the fact, quickly and quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“Paragraph six, Ma’am,” Kapono’s tongue flicked, openly displaying his unease. In twenty minutes, they needed to be at Admiral Hyacynth’s first official meeting after being promoted. Reputation demanded his superior be ready.</p><p> </p><p>“Traces,” Nomi skimmed the data more carefully this time.</p><p> </p><p>Taking a moment to fully comprehend the significance, Lt. Kapono watched his commanding officer’s changing expressions carefully. He’d commenced as her primary aid recently, a month after the Captain’s promotion to the admiralty. In that time, he knew she’d been under increasing pressure to get up to speed. No wonder she let such an important nugget get past her. He, however, came from a race known for their attention to detail and organisational abilities under stress.</p><p> </p><p>“Deneva is very much like Sol,” Kapono described the previously unimportant system. “Seven planets, four gas giants in outer orbits, two in the habitation zone and an asteroid belt separating the inner and outer system. It is 25 light years from Sol, 14 days at warp 7. A consortium has been mining the area for almost a century and there is a small population on the third satellite. Mostly processing and freight workers catering to the mining companies. No one has claimed the second or third planets for colonisation, although there are plans for both be occupied by oxygen breathing humanoids in the future.”</p><p> </p><p>“What assets do we have in the area?” the Admiral requested. Obviously, her aid knew his place and had cross referenced his information for accuracy.</p><p> </p><p>“There are several Starfleet funded civilian researchers on a station in orbit around Deneva III,” Kapono reported easily. “They have been terraforming the planet with a new method involving mycelial seeding. Although M class and neculogenic particles found in the atmosphere, it never progressed beyond the primordial soup. A Dr. Paul Stamets theorised a lack of single celled fungi halted the planet’s development towards higher evolution. So far, his theory seems to be correct.”</p><p> </p><p>“May I assume,” Nomi glanced up from her PADD, “that Deneva II has a hot, humid, carbon dioxide atmosphere that’s toxic to humanoids but can be terraformed?”</p><p> </p><p>“Starfleet is in the process of engaging a more traditional method for colonising Deneva II,” Kapono agreed. “It is positioned closer to the star and barely within the confines of the habitable zone, thus perfect for Vulcan colonisation once terraformed. The procedure requires at least fifty Sol years and is 59.7% complete.”</p><p> </p><p>“The current population centre on Deveva III?” Nomi asked, calling up Starfleet’s data on the system. Sketchy at best, she needed more information to decide to fate of the system.</p><p> </p><p>“4337 beings, encompassing fifteen species on both the planet surface and station in geocentric orbit. Those on the surface will continue to live in self-sustaining habitats until the the soil is able to sustain oxygen producing plants to augment the thin atmosphere in low lying areas. The base is not under Starfleet jurisdiction. However, the <em>USS Apache</em> is less than two light years away at the Corvan II colony. They could be diverted to assess the situation as the trapped miners have been rescued and the team of exploratory engineers remain onboard,” Kapono proposed.</p><p> </p><p>“Do it,” Katrina nodded. “Far be it for me to ignore a possible new source of dilithum, especially when the system is close to Corvan. However, I’m not willing to report this to the other Admirals without more solid information.”</p><p> </p><p>“History,” Kapono agreed, “has taught us that dilithum is rare and seeded in regions spatially close.”</p><p> </p><p>“I agree,” Nomi nodded. “When can I expect a report from <em>Apache</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Captain Greeh is expecting your orders and will arrive at Deneva in two days once the course change is authroised,” Kapono stated. “They understand the importance of this mission and will start with long range scans as they approach the system. I am sure you do not wish to show our hand to the mining consortiums before contracts can be initiated, should this source of dilithum prove profitable to extract.”</p><p> </p><p>“Agreed,” Nomi smiled. “Well done, Lieutenant, I appreciate your dedication.”</p><p> </p><p>“There is one further suggestion I might add,” Kapono waited for the Admirals nod to proceed. “There is a Starfleet sponsored annual science conference on Alpha Centauri next month. Perhaps sending Dr. Stamets to speak of his new terraforming methods would establish a cover, allowing us to keep <em>Apache</em> in the area. <em>Apache</em> is, after all, a science vessel.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who better to transport a group of scientists,” Nomi agreed with a widening grin, “while taking a cruise around the system. Is there anything else I should know, before meeting with the other Admirals, Lt. Kapono?”</p><p> </p><p>“Should the <em>Apache</em> uncover dilithum, it may be necessary to return the scientific team to Deneva rapidly, so they may continue their work unhindered, until a decision on Deneva’s future is decided. They are close to establishing a self-sustainable atmosphere in the low lands. I have devised a method, using short shuttle transfers and ship to planet transporters to deliver the team home within 40 hours.”</p><p> </p><p>“And?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing at this time, Admiral,” the Reposian flicked his tongue in a manner a human would consider full of pride. “I shall, however, keep you informed of any new developments.”</p><p> </p><p>Nodding, the Nomi collected a secure PADD, stood and requested, “walk with me. I will have new orders for you to dispatch by the time I reach my meeting. We need to ensure a team is ready to establish a colony on Deneva III at a moment’s notice. I’m afraid you’ll need to stay late tonight, so we can start to pull a plan together, should Capt. Greeh’s information lead in the direction we suspect.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have a list of qualified colonists,” Kapono’s expression appeared smug, “ready for your approval and letter of congratulations for their placement on file, should they be required at short notice.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why,” Admiral Hyacynth asked, pivoting to enter the turbolift, “did your last posting end so abruptly?”</p><p> </p><p>“I believe,” a yellow shade crept onto the Reposian’s forehead, “the admiral did not enjoy his decisions being anticipated and the preliminary effort undertaken.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yet,” Nomi chuckled, “your species is known for their organisational skills. I believe you can expect a long and prosperous career as my chief of staff, Lt. Kapono, especially if you continue to predict my wishes with this level of accuracy.”</p><p> </p><p>Captain Greeh’s full and final report came at the highest level of confidentiality five days later. The interim account twenty hours out of the system with their newly tuned long distant scanners detected more than ‘traces’ of diluthium in one particular section of the asteroid belt. Kapono commenced his plan with Dr. Stamets and his team attending the conference on Alpha Centauri as special guest, ensuring their removal from Deneva. <em>Apache</em> used the time while awaiting the group to map the system more closely, finding large deposits of latinum on the cinder like innermost planet, burred deep in the planets mantle. A much-prized currency outside of Federation boarders, this fact alone placed Admiral Hyacynth’s officer in uproar.</p><p> </p><p>“Operation Mushroom has commenced,” Kapono informed the Nomi’s staff a few hours after receiving the preliminary report and an emergency meeting with Fleet Admiral Marcus van Diemen. “All non-essential personnel are to be removed from the Deneva system at once. The reason is need to know. We are commencing colonisation immediately. Be prepared for long days and possibly nights, people as we get this operation underway.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why mushroom, Sir,” an ensign asked at the end of the briefing.</p><p> </p><p>Making a noise that equated to human laughter, Kapono stated, “there is a scientist studying fungi as a terraforming method, who will be more difficult to remove than oxygen on a human ship.”</p><p> </p><p>Grinning manically, Ensign Straal offered, “that wouldn’t be an Astromycologist by the name of Paul Stamets?”</p><p> </p><p>“You know of his work?” the Chief asked, his demeanour sobering immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m aware of the scientific possibilities,” Straal stated easily with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “I’m an engineer, and if his theories are correct, it could be in Starfleet’s interest to keep his research close. I have my own theories…” Pausing, Justin didn’t know how receptive Lt. Kapono would be to his somewhat outragious ideas.</p><p> </p><p>“You have two hours to send me a report, Ensign. I do not want theories, but ideas for practical applications and designs for implementation,” the Chief hissed, his tongue flicking. It demonstrated his interest, “especially if we can have a liaison within Dr. Stamets working group. I also believe that young man has some interesting philosophies.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aye, Sir,” Straal didn’t wait to be dismissed, his mind already working on the assignment. He had been waiting for this opportunity since graduating from the academy five years ago and being assigned anywhere other than an engineering posting.</p><p> </p><p>A fortnight after Dr. Stamets and his team returned to Deneva, the final event occurred to change his life completely. <em>USS Achilles </em>arrived in orbit and docked with the sation. All research in the system would be transferred back to Earth, starting with Paul’s team, effectively immediately, no reason given. It seemed their labs had been repurposed for the colonies school and the living quarters for the first wave of construction engineers and their families arriving in six days. Teams of Starfleet personnel and strangers appeared to ‘help’ Paul’s team pack up years’ worth of work for transport. <em>Achilles</em>Captain wanted to break orbit before her sister ship arrived.</p><p> </p><p>“They have no idea,” Paul let out his frustrations to an ever-patient Dr. Hugh Culber over the com in his quarters. The moment Stamets set foot into his personal space, he opened a channel to Alpha Centauri, if the feed wasn’t ready and waiting.</p><p> </p><p>“They’re not Astromycologists,” Dr. Culber offered simply. This week their shifts matched, making communication easy. Yesterday, or early this morning local time, Hugh fell asleep with the channel still open and Paul clicking away on his professional PADD. The week before, a run of nights meant they’d spent little more than five minutes talking. “Explain it to them, in words they’ll understand.”</p><p> </p><p>“You mean two or less syllables,” Paul responded cynically. “I only have six day remaining, before Captain V’Car breaks orbit, even if all my samples aren’t on board.”</p><p> </p><p>“If that’s what it takes to get the message through,” Hugh smiled gently, “yes.”</p><p> </p><p>A chime sounded on Paul’s end. Groaning, he said, “sorry, I have to go. Looks like one of the Starfleet imbeciles forgot fungi need their humidity carefully controlled.”</p><p> </p><p>“Go,” Hugh waved him away, “I’ll keep the channel open for a few hours. I need to do some reading before bed. By the way,” he teased, “you seem to forget I’m Starfleet.”</p><p> </p><p>Nodding while rolling his eyes, Paul muttered something seething under his breath. It turned out two of his samples had been completely destroyed while three others were trying to die quietly. Those that lost their battle to live were easily replaced, the others could be nursed, carefully, back to health. That wasn’t the point. Dr. Stamets days became a nightmare, attempting to micromanage moving a decade’s worth of work within a week. Hugh often listened to his rants as Paul laboured well into the night, the hours ticking down until his team boarded <em>Achilles</em> for their journey to Earth.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, Dr. Stamets, I’m Lt. Justin Straal,” the dark-haired man held out a hand, breaking Paul’s concentration as he stepped off the transporter pad.</p><p> </p><p>Rolling his eyes, Nadine Fourie’s expression demanded Paul play nicely. They had fourteen days aboard before reaching Earth. Everyone on the station knew part of Paul’s increasing irritation occurred after his request for leave and transport back to Earth had been denied. Catching her boss on his personal com in the lab a week after returning from the conference on Alpha Centauri, Nadine understood why. It didn’t take long to inform the rest of the station about his broken date with Dr. Hugh Culber. After a decade of not leaving his precious ‘kiddos’, Dr. Paul Stamets almost allowed a PhD student to care for his samples for an entire six weeks.</p><p> </p><p>Intolerance and frustration side, Lt. Straal would be their official Starfleet liaison, helping to keep their specimens alive while on <em>Achilles</em>. Dr. Stamets stepped on enough toes after losing valuable samples and research data, that few wanted anything to do with the prickly individual. Luckily, Paul didn’t listen to gossip, so the PhD student held back the fact Lt. Justin Straal would be joining their research team once they set up their new lab not far from Starfleet headquarters in San Francisco.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s your specialty?” Stamets demanded, aggravated at his work being disrupted, lack of sleep but mostly limiting his time with Hugh. A trained mycologist, even a Starfleet trained mycologist might be of some assistance, giving Paul time to locate and replace his lost samples. And com is boyfriend for at least an hour each day.</p><p> </p><p>One of the nicest aspects about working on Deneva, few people visited the planet still in the initial stages of habitation. Fewer still wanted to study at the out of the way institute. Interruptions would only increase with the move to an overcrowded laboratory on Earth. Setting up a new environment for his mushroom would take time and effort he really didn’t want to expend when they’d been happy for ten years. He’d lost another two samples due to mishandling, bringing the total to five so far. Keeping the specimens currently in the cargo bay alive long enough to complete the trip meant constant care. There just weren’t enough hours in the day, meaning sleep and contact with Hugh had gone by the wayside. Both irritated Dr. Stamets more than he ever admit.</p><p> </p><p>“Engineering,” Straal smiled.</p><p> </p><p>“Why do I need an engineer as a liaison?” Paul responded, his tone sharp and half hooded eyes watching Nadine for any signs of betrayal. He’d understood more than she’d have liked. Everyone knew Dr. Stamets didn’t like surprises, so they’d tried to save this one until he settled into his new environment. “You’d think they’d at least send someone conversant with biological systems and my work.”</p><p> </p><p>“Most of our research is commissioned by Starfleet,” Dr. Pascal reminded with a shake of his head. Paul’s second in command aspired to his post and then the lofty position of Director at some time in the future. “You’ll have to excuse Dr. Stamets, his social graces are lacking. I’m sure that’s why he chose Deneva and fought moving his research to Earth.”</p><p> </p><p>“That,” Straal agreed good naturedly, “I can see. As you don’t seem to need or want my help, it’s been….interesting meeting you, Dr. Stamets. Your quarters are on deck 6, section alpha 1. I’m sure we’ll see each other around before starting work together.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean,” Paul noticed the look passing between Straal and Nadine, while Pascal watched on with a smug expression, “working together? And you didn’t answer my question. Why do we need an engineer on our team?”</p><p> </p><p>“I read your paper on Panspermia: Physics as Biology. I saw you present it at the last Starfleet Science Conference on Alpha Centauri three weeks ago. If correct, at the quantum level, we might be able to use this network you suspect exists across the space/time continuum and is the progenitor for all life to move across space in a fraction of the time and with minimal energy in comparison to a conventional warp drive,” Straal answered easily. “The theory’s worth investigation, so Starfleet sent me to be your liaison, aiding your research and possibly adding a new direction. Personally, I’m hoping to get my PhD out of it.”</p><p> </p><p>Grunting, Paul threw over his shoulder, “we might have something to talk about after all, Lt. Straal. Right now, I need to check on what remains of my kiddo’s.”</p><p> </p><p>“Kiddo’s?” Justin turned to the junior member of the team with a perplexed expression. It seemed he’d been dismissed by Dr. Pascal, who followed his research lead out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Fungi,” Nadine couldn’t stifle her giggle. “Paul’s called his samples that since I joined the team. He talks to them. We should go to the cargo bay and check on the specimens. A couple are really finicky about their environment. We’ve already lost five and Dr. Stamets won’t be happy if any more die in transit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Follow me,” Justine smirked, putting on his best flirty tone, “I know a short cut.”</p><p> </p><p>Heading for the transporter, he gave the chief a nod. She grinned easily in return, understanding the newly promoted Lieutenants unspoken command. Before Nadine could protest, they appeared in the cargo bay, surrounded by carefully stacked, transparent containers. Each held diagnostic panel on the side facing clearly defined walkways.</p><p> </p><p>“Where would you like to start,” Justin’s smug grin widened as he threw his arms wide. “I read up on the requirements for mycelia from different planets after being appointed to his position. I also studied your boss. He’s one interesting individual.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can say that again,” Nadine rolled her eyes. “If this is the way you approach your work, I think Dr. Stamets is going to like you. Especially taking this amount of care with his prised possessions.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Justin responded, “because I have an idea that we’ll be working closely together in the future, especially if my theory proves correct. I hope you and I will be friends, at the very least.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be happy to have you on the team,” Nadine couldn’t help reacting to the hansom officer. She’d always had a thing for men in uniform. Added to that, Straal’s tall, dark looks appealed to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I show you around,” Justin asked easily, the attraction mutual, “seeing as Dr. Stamets no longer requires my assistance.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like that,” Nadine responded somewhat shyly, “as long as we talk about something other than work after leaving the cargo bay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s get started.” Pulling out his tricorder, Justin ensured the temperature, humidity and pressure inside the nearest container conformed to the manifest. “The sooner we finish, the sooner I can show off all the recreational facilities <em>Achilles</em> has to offer. I’m told there’s a party tonight. Do you dance?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m assuming Discovery, and the initial appearance of Lt. Stamets and Lt. Comm. Culber occurs some time in 2256. The Klingon war has been going for months. Using Rapp and Cruz real birthdays, Stamets is two years older than Culber. Cruz mentioned in an interview, the characters are not married on Discovery, but have been in a very long-term, committed relationship of about twenty years, or the same time Anthony and Wilson have been friends in real life. I’m also using their ages (47 and 45) when they first hit the Discovery small screen. However, Burnam describes Paul as a Widower, and Hugh talks to Reno about wedding ceremonies, so I’m going with commitment service at the very least.  My OCD, when I get writing, forces me to flesh out these details.</p><p> </p><p>The reason for my neurosis is covered in this chapter. I’ve done a lot of research on Deneva to ensure authenticity with the Star Trek Universe. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of information about the position of the planet, except it’s near Star Base 10. The remainder I’ve made up, or attempted to make sense of from convoluted Star Trek canon at Menory Alpha. Call it artistic licence and the need to further the plot. If you’re read any of my other stories (AO3 and FFnet), you’ll know there’s always method in my madness!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Part IV: Intermission</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>After looking at the amazing drawings by Jemina, my muse became tickled. Two of the incredible works found themselves weaved into this story. If you google ‘after the workout’, you’ll know where the history for Hugh comes from in this chapter. Also, the third date (next chapter), when Paul is introspective, imagine the scene from ‘man of the fleet’. Jemina, if you’re reading this, thank you for your extraordinary skill and sharing it with us. I have looked at your artwork so many times and been absolutely in awe of and inspired by them. They are unparalleled, as if your Honey Mushroom and Months series.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What the…” Paul Stamets shook his head in disbelief.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stock standard grey bulkheads curved away from the transporter room in either direction. He had worked on a Starfleet owned and operated base in geosynchronous orbit around Deneva III for ten years. Rolling his eyes, Paul should have anticipated the lack of signage and unvarying layout on their standardised facilities.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not a single uniformed officer inhabited the Deneva station. Civilian personnel administrated the scientific types living and working on the habitat in accordance with Starfleet procedure and policy. Sure, they all had communicators for internal logistics and a Starfleet issued professional PADD for their scientific research. Between the two devices, accessing schematics or talking to anyone on the base had been incredibly easy. He’d had to hand both back, uploading his data for transition into new appliances to be issued on <em>Achilles</em>. That particular detail, the reason why and the issues it might cause, eluded Dr. Stamets until this very moment and he cursed, loudly, at the sudden discovery.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grumbling and rolling his eyes, Paul came to the realisation, he had to find Lt. Straal, sooner rather than later so he might be able to navigate his way around this new envirnment. The man, obviously, had been assigned his liaison for a reason. Pulling his personal PADD from a pocket, Stamets attempted to connect to the <em>Achilles</em> network. After a few minutes, Paul understood the futility of that idea. It seemed the system didn’t recognise his private device.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Excuse me,” a very flustered Dr. Stamets attempted to hold back his biting sarcasm as the transporter Chief exited the room a few moments later.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sir,” the non-commissioned offered easily, with an amused smile and unabashed twinkle in her eye. “If you’re after Lt. Straal, he transported directly to the cargo bay with your assistant. They were going to check on your samples. Justin, that is Lt. Straal invented a new system especially for cataloguing and keeping your fungi. I believe he is demonstrating it to the young lady.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Acknowledging the comment and his own stupidity, Paul couldn’t quiet decide his next course of action. Dr. Jesus Pascal shook his head and sighed in frustration. Stepping towards the crewman, he asked, “I believe Dr. Stamets requires a Starfleet issue PADD to aid his movements around this ship and continue his research.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Quartermaster can help you with that,” Chief Smith grinned, watching the prickly scientist cheeks increase from pink annoyance to red embarrassment. He looked exceptionally uncomfortable, hopping from one foot to the other. “Turn left and follow the corridor until you come to the end. You’ll find the turbo lift on your right, maybe ten paces from the T junction. Go down to level fourteen, the corridor there is in the Engineering hull. Chief Nelmeir’s office is located fourth door port side, that’s right in relation to the turbolift. Otherwise just ask one of the engineers if you go too far. Only other department in that area.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Without further discussion, Paul took off in the indicated direction, leaving Pascal behind. Twenty minutes later, PADD in hand, Stamets followed the instructions to the cargo bay, wanting to check on his fungi before locating his quarters. Calling up the innovatory for this consignment, he found the fungi quickly and easily. The two samples barely hanging to life seemed happy enough, even showing signs of improvement in their specialised container. Over the last six days, Paul hadn’t been allowed on <em>Apache</em> to ensure his Kiddos were properly catalogued, stored and maintained. It seemed, in this at least, Starfleet devised an entirely new transport system. The incubators were genius and seriously impressed Paul.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>I have to thank the person who invented these</em>, Stamets mood improved just walking along the rows of containers and witnessing the care taken with his precious samples. He could hear Lt. Straal’s voice as he spoke with Nadine, echoing around the cavernous space. It seemed the engineer might prove useful after all, necessitating an apology for his earlier behaviour.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Deciding to leave the pair, and very reluctantly, his life’s work as everything seemed wel in hand, Paul called up the directions to his quarters. On the way, he studied Lt. Straal’s personnel file. As the research lead, he’d been given access to the man’s history. Entering Starfleet Academy at sixteen, Justin excelled at his engineering courses but found the physical side of training taxing. He proved more a theoretical type, which limited his opportunities. Offered advanced studies, he chose to remain at the academy for another two years before commencing as an Ensign in research and development. He’d been stuck, until the role in Admiral Hyacynth opened a new world of possibilities for the young engineer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Paul,” Hugh’s voice sounded somewhat surprised from Stamets personal PADD, gripped tightly in his left hand. Obvious to both men, Stamets accidently initiated the call.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry,” Paul managed to appear chagrined when he brought the device into sight range, “I didn’t mean to wake you, or call you for that matter. It doesn’t fallow that I don’t want to talk to you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s alright,” Culber rubbed his eyes, obviously tired. “I can spare a few minutes before I drop into bed from utter exhaustion. Had to work a double. We have a new strain of the Andorian Septa Virus sweeping though the population. Three doctors called in sick and I’m not sure how many nurses.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re taking care of yourself?” Paul demanded, forehead furrowing and a frown appearing on his lips. If anything could take his mind off his current predicament, the thought of a sick Hugh allowed any other consideration to grow wings and fly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Laughing heartily, Culber announced, “I’m taking a holo of that expression. If the mere thought of me being sick causes you that much angst, I’ll have to ensure I’m unwell when we meet for our date. I can just imagine all that special attention lavished on me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Two weeks,” Paul sighed. “I’ll be on Earth in two weeks.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And far too busy for any social interaction,” Hugh teased, PADD propped up on his nigh stand as he climbed into bed. “Not sure how long I’ll stay awake. I have to be back at the hospital soon.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That bad?” Paul sympathised, then recalled his position. Walking down a hallway on <em>Apache </em>was not the place to show emotion and therefor weakness. Increasing the length and timing of his footsteps, Stamets wanted to reach the privacy of his quarters before continuing this discussion with Hugh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes,” Culber hissed, a slight smile creeping onto his face as he read the expressions fliting across his boyfriends face. In the weeks they’d been communicating over sub-space, he’d learnt a lot about Paul and his slightly idiosyncratic behaviours. The man kept his private life contained within the walls of his home. “We’re attempting to uncover why some people get a much more severe respiratory variant, effecting the oxygen diffusion rates. I had to put three patients on ventilatory support to get them through their crisis. I hope they make it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do I know the Virologist heading up the research?” Paul asked, juggling two PADD’s as he attempted follow the instructions for opening the door to his quarters and saving his code. Following the directions while talking to Culber severely taxed his dexterity.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Lisa Burnside,” Hugh sighed, understanding the sudden loss of Stamets attention. Starfleet processes littered his day, but he handled them more easily because of familiarity. “Brilliant without people skills. A lot like you really, so my instincts say you’ll be good friends.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Funny,” Paul frowned, finally moving through the door, “but accurate.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hugh hummed in answer, just watching his boyfriend. He loved the ever-changing expressions on Paul’s face, and couldn’t wait to see them in reality. Eyes rapidly closing, Dr. Culber almost found sleep approaching when Stamets finally stood within his temporary quarters.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Goodnight, my Dear Doctor,” Paul whispered, blowing an air kiss.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d been enthralled, observing Hugh’s facial muscles relax into slumber. Even over the lightyears, it seemed like such an intimate occasion, watching a loved one in a vulnerable moment. Turing off the PADD after Culber’s mumbled response, Stamets felt his worried evaporate. He might have another two weeks, and countless hours re-establishing his cultivation bay at the other end, but it would all be worth it, with Hugh only a two-hour shuttle ride away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Paul glanced around, finding his personal affects dumped in a corner. Picking out his sleepwear, he headed for the hygiene room and decided to leave the unpacking until tomorrow, ships time. <em>We have our third date</em>, the though lightened his step and mood, just as Hugh’s calls always did. <em>I’m sure we’re going to find we’re be just as compatible physically as every other way. I can’t wait to watch Hugh fall asleep after, well, don’t get ahead of yourself, Stamets. You need to let your Dear Doctor set the pace, but I want to touch that man, all of him.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Four hours later, a shrill alarm woke Dr. Culber. Sighing and rubbing his eyes to remove the sleep, he knew the next few days would be hectic. <em>But</em>, he considered, stumbling to the hygiene room and determined to take a real water shower so he might actually feel alive, followed quickly by a strong, hot cup of coffee, <em>the time will fly. Before I know it, Paul will be within easy reach. I haven’t cancelled my leave, just postponed it. When I get a chance, I have to change the tickets to the exhibition. Maybe make a booking at that new sky bar I’ve heard about in New York and a stay overnight at the quaint little hotel I discovered last time I partied a little hard. I’m sure, after the way he fussed over me, I’m not getting ahead of myself and our next date will get physical. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Happy thoughts filling his mind, Culber redressed in medical whites, the uniform quickly refreshed from yesterday’s globules of vomit and snot, while he took his shower. The entire walk back to the hospital, Hugh’s mind considered their first date and the continuing relationship with Paul. The doctor had never been quiet so forward when picking up a complete stranger, not that he hadn’t, a number of times, in the past. In fact, Hugh found himself at the Lake House Café waiting on a date that never showed. Ensign Holloway, a fit and trim looking oriental decadent from the Tarus II colony had been eyeing him up in the Starfleet gym since starting this posting. Their shifts seemed to coincide more often than not, meaning they worked out together a couple of times each week. The mid-twenties operations officer finally got the courage to ask Hugh out, and Culber accepted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sipping his Alphan spiced tea, served in an Earth style whisky tumbler and over ice, Hugh knew he’d been stood up half way through the drink. Wondering why, he hummed, as he usually did when considering his options. Dr. Culber’s affairs of the heart had been more physically pleasing than emotionally satisfying since taking up his first posting. It seemed to be the motto in your early Starfleet career, when moving every year or two, concentrating on climbing the ranks and establishing your reputation. Not about to change his gym routine with this longer term posting to Alpha Centauri, the doctor wondered how Holloway would react the next time they met. Then came that fateful ‘hey, stifle it or sit somewhere else. You’re so far off key…’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Obviously embarrassed by his outburst, the man didn’t look away. The slight annoyance, rapidly turning into interest didn’t go unnoticed by Hugh. Slowly, carefully, looking him up and down, Culber liked what he saw. Not Starfleet, the doctor understood by his civilian clothing being chosen for comfort rather than style. Yet, the man seemed relaxed, almost content in the luxurious, if somewhat out of date causal clothing. The sparkling blue eyes arrested his gaze for a moment, observing the dilation of sexual awareness between them. The colour becoming as rare in humans as the strangers’ pale skin. Body language confident, almost forcefully so, meant he knew his own worth, at least in his area of expertise. If Dr. Culber had to guess, he’s be one of the science types here for the annual Starfleet conference. Hugh decided he could be up for a few days of fun, allowing him the time to concentrate on his new position.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Deliberately issuing a challenge, Hugh quirked an eyebrow, watching the stranger’s expression change to unease mixed with befuddled wonderment. Lifting his glass, taking a very deliberate sip, blue iris locked on his lips, the tumbler and Culber’s movement. Understanding this attraction to be duel sided, Hugh stood and covered the distance between them quickly. Pulling out the chair, he sat, placing his glass not more than five centimetres from the strangers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Letting the atmosphere settle, Hugh finally asked, “why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not allowing this beautiful, prickly man time to regain his equilibrium, Culber liked the feeling of keeping him slightly off centre. Honesty oozed from him, when not allowed to retreat back into his cantankerous shell. Hugh liked what he saw, and heard. Before he could take back the words, they’d agreed to a second date and Culber’s heart rejoiced, not that he let his face show his delight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Walking to the Porto Rican restaurant later the same night, he let Paul ask the questions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why,” Stamets seemed a little confused, “did you choose Starfleet for your medical training? Both your parents are teachers. You said three older sisters?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes,” Hugh smiled. “All still on Earth, living with their spouses not more than five kilometres from Mom and Dad’s house in Mayagüez. I always wanted more than staying…local.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Smirking, Paul’s azure eyes shone, while the corners crinkled. Obviously keeping a smile hidden, he offered, “I divorced my family at the age of fourteen, moved across country to enrol in University. I get not wanting to say local. This restaurant, it reminds you of home?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Laughing, Hugh shook his head to get himself under control. “Yes,” he whispered. “I find I need a dose of my roots every now and again, to remind me why I’m out here. That and the scar I got hiking the trails along the cliffs of Cabo Rojo.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The conversation between them flowed, although not necessarily in any particular direction. Weaving and turning, often back on itself, Hugh now appreciated the fact they were attempting to get to know each other on a profound level. Just underneath the words, each analysed the discussion and body language, storing away the snips of personal information for later contemplation. In fact, Dr. Culber’s mind returned to that impromptu date over the next two days, especially while getting ready for the opera. Paul stood impatiently at the entry to the restaurant. They’d decided to eat first, after a text only conversation that turned into a long com call the night before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alpha Centauri to Dr. Culber,” Gurrt teased an hour into their busy shift, “are you still with us?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry,” Hugh smiled easily at the nurse, “I seem to be lost in thought.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Making a noise their species considered amused laughter, the Helloraian offered, “that boyfriend of yours again? He seems to be on your mind a lot lately.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Paul’s relocating to Earth,” Hugh responded, looking around the newly created emergency triage area. It seemed they had a lull and he intended to use the time wisely. Calculating the hour in New York, he decided to put his plan into action. “Could you hold the fort here for a few minutes?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go,” Gurrt almost purred, “before the next shuttle of snotty nosed individuals arrives, needing treatment for this flu. And get yourself a coffee and something to eat before coming back on duty, Doctor. Sell preservation first. I wouldn’t want you to come down with this bug.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Throwing a wave over his shoulder, Hugh took the opportunity with both hands. He had an idea. Not wanting to run it by Paul first, he hoped his surprise might indicate the direction of their future, as if that last kiss at the shuttle port hadn’t. As for the level of comfort they’d formed over their nightly communications, he really didn’t think Dr. Stamets would object to a hotel room with a very large double bed.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p><em>After all</em>, Hugh couldn’t wait to spring this surprise on Paul<em>, it is our third date</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Part V: Stage Centre: Apache.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Lt. Straal,” Paul walked up to the man currently sharing a table in the mess hall with his PhD student. Both looking a little worse for wear after their exuberant night. While Dr. Stamets might not be the life of the party, it didn’t mean he ignored the odd snippet of information or declined to overhear to others gossip. In fact, the scientist knew and understood a lot more than he disclosed, secretly amused by others behaviours.</p><p> </p><p>“Dr. Stamets,” Justin offered politely but carefully, unsure how his new boss felt about him. Still wanting to make a good impression, Straal, stood and offered one of the spare chairs at their table.</p><p> </p><p>Nadine started to say something, but Paul cut her off with a look. “I owe you an apology,” he grumbled, eyes flicking to the engineer.</p><p> </p><p>“Accepted,” Justin responded with a smile and the offer of his hand. “Now that we have that out of the way, please join us. We were discussing <em>Hypoxylon Polypore</em>. I increased its humidity by two percent when I showed Nadine the specialised transport system devised for your ‘kiddos’ last night. On our morning inspection, it seems to have made a difference.”</p><p> </p><p>Forehead furrowing, Paul became defensive. Stamets hoped, at least, the engineer sort Nadine’s advice and understanding of why his kiddoes environment were so crucial to his research.</p><p>Anger erupted, the more he considered the subject. Not at Straal for taking such good care of his specimens, but making a change without his knowledge or permission.</p><p> </p><p>“Before you bite my heat off,” Justin grinned, easily following the scientist’s thoughts before returning to his breakfast and spooning some cream coloured goop into his mouth, “you’re welcome.”</p><p> </p><p>“You should see the development,” Nadine enthused, earning Stamets glare which she chose to ignore. After last night, she decided to take some of Lt. Straal’s advice and disregard the pernickety scientist’s mercurial moods. “It’s formed a bacidiosac, something we couldn’t get it to do on Deneva. I believe we’ll have spore development before arriving on Earth.”</p><p> </p><p>Nodding and deep in thought, Stamets pivoted with every intention of making his way to the cultivation bay. Before leaving the mess hall, he heard Straal mutter something about attracting people with honey rather than vinegar. Nadine commented that Paul had always been more than a little sour and, decidedly, an acquired taste. For some reason, it seemed Lt. Justin Straal’s comment riled the Astromycologist, because, as Hugh would tell him later over the comm, the officer might be right and Paul knew it. He really should try to be nicer to people, they might surprise him.</p><p> </p><p>Choosing to forget the overheard conversation, Stamets easily located the sample. Immediately noticing the difference in the hyphae, Paul inhaled sharply, a multitude of explanations going around his head. Pulling up Straal’s academic record proved he’d studied mycology, but all his research seemed devoted to using Stamets theories for new and innovative propulsion systems. Intrigued by this unique train of thought, after all the lieutenant was an engineer, Stamets retreated to his quarters safe in the knowledge that Nadine and Straal would look after his precious ‘kiddos’, leaving Paul time to devote to this new aspect of his research.</p><p> </p><p>“Paul,” Hugh’s voice issued from his personal PADD several hours later. He’d programmed it to accept any calls from Culber immediately. Not looking up from the computer screen before him, Stamets reoriented the device so he could see his boyfriend from the corner of his eye. “You look busy. I can call back.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Paul stated, still involved with the data on the screen. “I want to talk to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really,” Hugh had a note of restrained amusement overlaying annoyance. “I don’t know why I would have thought anything else.”</p><p> </p><p>Pulling his attention from the screen to the PADD, Paul smiled, wide and bright, “really. Just seeing your face makes my day.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good, because I really don’t have time to call you back,” Hugh confessed with a heavy, fatigued sigh.</p><p> </p><p>“You look exhausted,” Paul sympathised, examining the background and noticing the standard configuration of Starfleet medical walls. “I hope you’re on the way home after working so hard yesterday.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not a chance,” Hugh took in a deep breath before releasing it slowly. “I’m going to be here at least the next shift. We’re inundated.”</p><p> </p><p>“The Andorran Septa Virus?” Paul queried with a sympathetic frown.</p><p> </p><p>“Lisa said her teams about twenty-four to forty-eight hours away from a cure. It looks like double shifts, and possibly sleeping at the medical centre, for the next few days,” Dr. Culber stated. “So, expect short comms at odd times, when I can take a few minutes to contact you.”</p><p> </p><p>“You got what,” Paul did the mental calculation, considering the time difference between <em>Achilles </em>and Alpha Centauri, “four hours sleep between shifts. I hope you managed to eat.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I’m the doctor,” Hugh reminded gently, secretly welcoming the fact his wellbeing distracted Paul from his research. Each time they talked, Culber learnt something new about Stamets. The private man, much to his amusement, could be softer than mush.</p><p> </p><p>“So, you should know when and how to look after yourself. I’m being selfish,” Paul concluded, earning him a confused expression from his boyfriend. “I want you well enough to meet me on Earth for our next date.”</p><p> </p><p>Finally, a wide smile erupted on Culber’s lips. “I shifted my leave for the week after you arrive in San Francisco. Think eight days will be enough to get your precious kiddos settled before meeting me in New York?”</p><p> </p><p>An expression Hugh had never seen before crossed Paul’s face. “I’ve been wrong about Straal,” he asserted, lips becoming a firm line. “You’d be proud of me, I apologised.”</p><p> </p><p>“I would have like to see that,” Hugh couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “Paul Stamets, eating humble pie.”</p><p> </p><p>Grumbling, the scientist offered, “I thought you had to get back to work.”</p><p> </p><p>“With the image of you grovelling to a lowly Starfleet officer,” Hugh mocked, “the rest of the day will fly. I should be able to comm about midnight, when I get home, or at least fall into the nearest biobed. I’d like to talk before falling asleep, and get an answer about New York.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Dear Doctor,” Paul couldn’t quite contain his excitement, “eight days after I land. With Straal on the team and sleeping with Nadine, they’ll look after my kiddos. I’m hoping to spent at least a few days with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to keep you to that,” Hugh attempted to look stern. It didn’t quite come off and both men smiled rather shyly at each other, understanding this date would set the tone for the rest of their relationship.</p><p> </p><p>Nodding his agreement, Paul returned to the screen displaying advance warp mechanics, allowing Hugh to end their connection and get back to his patients. Finding some aspects of engineering theory fascinating, Paul knew he’d have to obtain at least some expertise in the area, if not an entire degree, to keep up with Straal. Adding Justin to their team might not be such a bad idea. It certainly would lead research into a new and novel direction. A direction which could revolutionise space travel but also get his theory recognised beyond the scientific community. Both thoughts appealed to Stamets as it gave credence to his ideas and a practical application for the mycelial network.</p><p> </p><p>Which led him back to Justin Staal and what he wanted to achieve with the man. They needed to form a working relationship, at least, to spend hours on end in a lab together. With Starfleet directly administering, funding and controlling the research, Paul might not have the freedom to choose his focus, as he had on Deneva. Point in case, the sudden and unexpected relocation to Earth. Analysing the situation more closely, it seemed the Federation considered his ideas worthy of closer scrutiny. To that end, they’d inserted a Starfleet engineer into his group. Using the mycelial network for a unique form of propulsion seemed to intrigue someone powerful enough to make these sweeping alterations very abruptly with the available resources to make it happen instantaneously. Like it or not, Dr. Paul Stamets was stuck with Lt. Straal. The next two weeks might be necessary to bring the engineer up to speed while dedicating himself to the pursuit of further, and so far, unexplored knowledge.</p><p> </p><p>“No time like the present,” Paul decided, glancing at the chronometer on the screen. He’d used the entire day researching aspects of engineering. Reaching for his PADD, Stamets typed out several messages, leaving the one for Lt. Straal until last.   </p><p> </p><p>PS: Meet me in the cultivation bay, 0800 tomorrow morning. If you going to be on this team, I’m assigning you duties. Tell Nadine she needs to attend as well.</p><p> </p><p>JS: Aye, Sir.</p><p> </p><p>Rolling over in his bunk after typing out the short response, Justin showed his current lover the message. Nadine’s eyes widened with surprise. It caused Straal to smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Stamets might be rude and prickly,” he commented with a smirk, “but don’t ever think the man’s intelligence stops at academic knowledge.”</p><p> </p><p>Furrowing her brow, Nadine asked, “what do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Stamets is emotionally intelligent, more so than most people give him credit for,” Justin settled back, pulling Nadine into his embrace. “That’s why he can act so grumpy, snap at everyone and get away with it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because he understands the reaction he’ll get, counts on it,” she continued the thought, never having seen her boss though this particular lens. “Everyone on Deneva hated interacting with him.”</p><p> </p><p>“I bet,” Justin chuckled. “Stamets attempts to turn the conversation back on the individual annoying him, so people will leave him alone. I get it. He doesn’t take to fools, there are very few people whose knowledge and intelligence rivals his. He doesn’t like small talk, or interacting with anyone, probably finds it tedious and boring. Let’s not even go with crowded or public situation not involving his mushroom babies. Yet, he picked up on the attraction between us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Rumour has it, he always has company,” Nadine offered, “when he goes to a conference. Like everyone else, I thought he just picked up someone for a few days because Paul’s never been interested in anyone on Deneva station.”</p><p> </p><p>“But,” Straal prompted, when the pause continued. Fourier appeared to be thinking.</p><p> </p><p>“The last conference, on Alpha Centauri,” she hesitated, wide brown eyes meeting Straal’s with dawning comprehension, “he seemed, well, different. Happier, lighter. When we were boarding the shuttle for our trip back to Deneva, this Starfleet medical officer showed up, kissed him like I never though Stamets would appreciate in public. I thought Dr. Culber might be wasting his time, but it seems they’re in constant contact. Comm each other like ten times a day. It’s sickening. When we got the news of the move and Stamets leave got cancelled…”</p><p> </p><p>“Extra prickly?” Justin laughed. <em>The man’s not what he appears to be. I can use that, to get close, form a working relationship. I believe in Stamets research, I just don’t think he’s taking it in the right direction.</em></p><p> </p><p>The next fortnight proved Justin Straal to be intelligent, dedicated, open and the kind of research partner Dr. Paul Edward Stamets always wanted but never knew he needed. Ideas flowed between them, debate occurred on almost every aspect of the work. Sometimes the words became heated and the tone confrontational, but they seemed to get over it.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you swallowed the entire Starfleet syllabus on warp mechanics?” Justin demanded on their tenth morning, while checking the samples in the cultivation bay.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve used my time,” Paul looked at him with a sudden, condescending expression, “to brush up on some aspect of your speciality.”</p><p> </p><p>“Meaning, between comm’s to your boyfriend,” Straal teased, “and completing the first- and second-years courses for an engineering degree, you’re not getting any sleep. What would Hugh say, if he knew you were surviving on less than two hours slumber?”</p><p> </p><p>Stamets levelled a malevolent glare at the engineer.</p><p> </p><p>“Quit the look,” Justin retorted, holding his PADD up to a sample of <em>Volcanum tellus mortem</em> as he checked the environmental condition required for the Vulcan fungus. “You should know by now, it doesn’t work on me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I hate you,” Paul hissed.</p><p> </p><p>“So, you keep telling me,” Straal shook his head in the attempt to hide his smile. “Hey, there is something I wanted to ask you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing’s stopped your inquisitive nature up to now,” Paul seethed, secretly pleased. It seemed a sort of rivalry come friendship had developed between the two men over the intervening days. Straal seemed to get him on a level few others ever attempted. More importantly, Justin managed to keep up with Stamets intelligence.</p><p> </p><p>“How did you get stuck with Pascal?” Justin asked with a quizzical expression. “The man’s an idiot!”</p><p> </p><p>Rolling his eyes, Paul offered, “pushed the directors’ buttons one too many times.”</p><p> </p><p>“Paybacks a bitch,” Straal couldn’t hold in the chuckle. “Maybe we can find a better project for Pascal when we get Earth side.”</p><p> </p><p>“I believe,” Stamets sighed, closing his eyes as if the words were being pulled from him against his will, “I would be in your debit.”</p><p> </p><p>The chuckle turned into a serious case of laughter. “That,” Justin managed to get control while under the piercing glare of Stamets not appreciated his humour, “I’ll have to see. In fact, I’ll have to tell your boyfriend about this conversation. I imagine Hugh would find it amusing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Very,” Paul stated, turning and striding out of the bay.</p><p> </p><p>“Calm down, Paul,” Hugh managed, just, to contain his laughter, but not the slight curling of his lips or the twinkle in his brown gaze. Hearing about the conversation second hand only made it funnier, as Culber imagined his boyfriend’s reaction. Added to the expressions rolling over the scientist’s face as he related the incident occurring a few minutes previously, would normally have the doctor in fits. “Justin’s teasing you. It’s a good thing, that your relationship has developed to the point that Straal can torment without taking it seriously. However,” becoming professional, “you know I agree with his assessment of your physical state. Go to bed, Paul, and get some sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Dear Doctor,” he said, his tone surly and petulant.</p><p> </p><p>“I had hoped,” Hugh sighed loudly, “that Lt. Straal’s work/life habits might rub off on you.”</p><p> </p><p>Snorting, Paul glared through the PADD’s screen. “We’ve pulled a couple of all nighters.”</p><p> </p><p>“I bet,” Hugh drew his doctor persona tighter, “he breaks for meal, or gets them delivered and goes home at some point to sleep for at least six hours.”</p><p> </p><p>“The lure of Nadine,” Paul rolled his eyes in exasperation.</p><p> </p><p>“Starfleet policy,” Culber corrected, a hard note in his tone.</p><p> </p><p>“At least he as someone to go home too,” Paul responded peevishly.</p><p> </p><p>Eyebrows rising, Hugh asked, very carefully, “and would you, Paul, if someone were waiting? Would you really stop working and go home?”</p><p> </p><p>This anger instantly vanishing and his astonished mind suddenly blank, he looked at Hugh’s expectant expression. A series of emotions crossed Stamets face as he considered the idea. Unfortunately, he came to the only possible conclusion. “No.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what I thought,” Culber sighed, not bothering to keep the disappointment from his voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Are we having our first argument?” Paul asked, more than a little confused.</p><p> </p><p>“So, it would seem,” Hugh smiled sadly. “However, your answer is exactly what I expected. I know what I’m getting into with you, Paul. I can’t help feeling disappointed that your mushrooms come first, but then, if they didn’t you wouldn’t be the person you are.”</p><p> </p><p>Brow furrowing and frowning, this seemed a lot to take in. “So, you’re not breaking up with me.”</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, Culber stated, “no.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Stamets smirked, “because I want to take you to the botanical gardens when we’re in New York. They have over a hundred fungi on display.”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose you’re going to show me all of them?” Rolling his eyes with mock horror, the doctor can’t keep a please note out of his voice. It means Paul intends to spend at least one night with him.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe,” Paul returned, his own smile widening, “but it’s going to take more than one day so we might have to stay in New York for a few nights.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Part VI: Centre Stage: New York</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've learnt more about de Kooning's work than I though possible. Now I understand why the writers included that throw away line into the episode. If fact, it was that line, about their third date that started this work.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ten days later, Paul adjusted the collar of his favourite shirt with his right hand for the third time in as many minutes. The dark blue, casual garment brought out the vivid colouring of his eyes. In the past, highlighting his best feature always got him the lover he’d wanted. It should have been the most comfortable item in his wardrobe. Yet, everything about the shirt and its history seemed dishonest and disingenuous toward Hugh.</p><p><em>Or maybe</em>, Paul carefully considered, <em>I’m imagining the inappropriateness because this date means so much to me, on many different levels and in a way it never has before. Hugh could be ‘the one’.</em></p><p>The reason <strong><em>why</em></strong> this meeting proved important to him finally coalesced in Dr Paul Edward Stamets brain. That particular thought caused the Astromycologist to become temporarily speechless and paralysed with both absolute joy and abject terror. Weight shuffling from one foot to the other, Paul’s nervousness doubled, doubled again, before trebling and becoming an indigestible lump in the bottom of his stomach. That life shattering revelation refused to be dislodged.</p><p> </p><p>The flowers, or more precisely a very rare New Zealand specimen of <em>Entoloma hochstetteri</em> from Stamets personal collection, continued to pulsate neon blue in a stasis tube dangling from Paul’s left wrist. Realising the reason for giving away one of his ‘kiddos’ to this beautiful, effervescence, honest, trustworthy individual, Paul finally understood the depth of his own feelings. Hugh liking the present became secondary. The fungus serve would always serve as a reminder of their time together, but to Stamets, it formed a declaration of his devotion and love for Dr Hugh Culber.</p><p><em>So long as the date goes well</em>, Paul reproached himself mentally, taking in a sharp breath.</p><p><em>You’ve been talking on the comm for weeks</em>, Stamets alter ego reminded, <em>every chance you can get. Sometimes for hours after you get home from work. This last week, since arriving on Earth, your personal PADD’s held an open channel, even if Hugh’s at work or asleep.</em></p><p>Yesterday, nervous energy getting the better of him, Paul kept talking while pottering around his new lab and cultivation bay. Straal and Nadine rolled their eyes, making snarky comments in the background until they’d sent Paul home early. Unable to keep his eyelids open, Hugh fell asleep while Stamets watched the slumbering man, his mind wishing he were lying next to him. Even over the vast distance between Alpha Centauri and Earth, an intimacy existed between them.</p><p>Dr. Culber, for his part, hadn’t been able to contain his excitement at the impending physical meeting. Telling his staff about the gorgeous, smart, droll man he’d met a few weeks ago, everyone enjoyed witnessing Hugh in the throes of his latest attraction. No one deserved to be happy more than the well liked, affable doctor, so they listened with one ear opened and hoped Culber didn’t get his heart broken by going all in far too soon. Bag packed and waiting by the door, the hours ticked by slowly. The medics arranged to get their colleague off shift early, in time to catch the mid-afternoon shuttle to Earth’s SpaceDoc. All going well, Hugh would be transporting down to New York within the next few minutes.</p><p>“Waiting for someone,” Hugh came up behind Paul, tapping the anxious man on the shoulder. Hidden by the crowd and watching Stamets for the last few minutes proved intriguing. Noticing his boyfriend seemed as edgy as Culber felt, caused a bubble of laughter to rise up. They really were a pair! After comm dating for weeks this meeting seemed surreal.</p><p> </p><p>Paul pivoted, almost falling into Hugh’s outstretched arms. Hands reached, fingers explored and lips met as two bodies moulded themselves into one. Humanity swirled around them, some frowning at the interruption to their routine, others with a grin for the lovers oblivious to anything around them. After pulling away from a searing kiss, Culber offered a wide smile and a single word in greeting.</p><p>“Hi,” dark eyes shone as Hugh’s lips parted to show his perfect teeth. His whole face lit with emotions. Happiness radiating from those warm, chocolate orbs that melted when focused on Paul.</p><p>“I brought you this,” Paul’s cheeks turned bright red, embarrassed by the public display of affection. Yet, Stamets couldn’t help but feel please Culber needed as much physical contact as as himself to believe this might be real, might actually be happening. Finally, holding up his stasis tube, Stamets offered the fungus.</p><p>“Well,” Hugh teased, keeping an arm securely wrapped around Stamets waist as he accepted the gift, “I’ve never been given anything quite so unique.”</p><p>“You don’t like it,” Paul responded mournfully.</p><p>Letting out a full-bodied chuckle, Hugh eased them to one side of the traffic exiting the transport station. “It’s so adorably you, Paul.”</p><p>“So, you’re giving me a compliment,” Stamets asked, unsure.</p><p>“Yes,” Hugh sighed, watching the rapidly changing expressions flit across Paul’s face. “I’m complimenting you. You are the most distinctive person I’ve ever met, Sweetheart. By the way, I love that shirt on you. Brings out the colour in your eyes.”</p><p>“It’s always got me the man I wanted,” Paul smiled a little smugly. His heart now beating a faster with anticipation.</p><p>“Always?” Hugh questioned, feeling wonderful at being able to flirt in person. “You still haven’t seen the inside of my quarters and we’re only starting our third date.”</p><p>“Yet,” Paul responded with an eyebrow lift. “I haven’t physically seen the inside of your quarters, yet.”</p><p>“Virtual doesn’t count,” Hugh shook his head in mock surrender.</p><p>“I think it counts for something,” Paul responded, his smile finally appearing and transforming his face.</p><p>They’d both transported their luggage directly to the hotel after arguing logistic last night. With the time difference between New York and Rigel Kentaurus III, the pair had less than three hours before the de Koonings exhibition closed for the day. Hugh made the reservation for their lodgings and tickets for the Met, Paul organised their timetable. He felt anxious and  to get going so they could achieve all their goals for today.</p><p>“What about sharing a bed at the hotel tonight?” Paul grinned suggestively, once again using his eyebrows to get his message across. “It might not be your quarters, but I’ll take what I can get. Besides, this date has started really well and I’m hopeful for a satisfying conclusion.”</p><p>“Getting a little ahead of yourself,” Hugh teased, a delighted twinkle sparking the warmth in his brown eyes.</p><p>“Not really,” Paul returned, “but I’m hoping to.”</p><p>“That was a really awful joke, Paul,” Hugh mock frowned at the pun. Breaking out into a chuckle, “even for you.”</p><p>“Wasn’t it,” Paul grinned.</p><p>“You can do better,” Hugh added.</p><p>“Yes, Dear Doctor, I can do much better,” Paul’s expression turned serious. “I intend to show you how much better I can do tonight. Now, the Met, then dinner, then I’m planning to take you to bed.”</p><p>Shaking his head, Culber released his hold on Stamets. Placing the stasis tube in this day back, the doctor finally felt ready to start their date. Hugh loved New York. He came whenever possible, enjoying the myriad of artistic venues and exhibitions, but mostly he enjoyed taking in several Broadway shows and the opera, if possible. That surprise, he’d spring on Paul tomorrow night.</p><p>Increasing their pace, Hugh found his feet heading for Central Park and Fifth Avenue easily. He’d travelled the path many times before. Paul happily followed in his boyfriend’s wake, watching Culber’s enjoyment as they walked the three blocks to their destination. His Dear Doctor came alive, lips curing into the biggest smile, while his eyes shone with excitement. Stamets couldn’t keep his gaze from the man at his side, even if he almost had to run to keep up.</p><p>As if Hugh knew, understood the competing emotions Stamets felt, he let his hand trail, as if willing Paul to take it. Mounting the stairs towards the ancient entrance to the museum, Stamets finally found the courage to reach out. Lacing their fingers together, a shiver ran over the scientist’s body. In that moment, he didn’t need to wonder if Hugh was ‘the one’, Dr. Paul Stamets knew with all certainty. He’d continue running to catch this intelligent, caring, friendly individual, taking anything Hugh offered.</p><p>Sighing, Paul understood he’d been waiting for someone just like Hugh. Ten years since his last serious boyfriend, Stamets finally realised what and who he’d been waiting for. Patient, kind, funny, Hugh seemed his exact opposite. More, the medic accepted Paul on every level, his sarcastic wit, his prickly exterior and his inability to communicate his emotions. It seemed Hugh got him, where it mattered the most and Paul loved him for it.</p><p>“Hey,” Culber finally slowed their pace. Joining the line for admittance, he stared at Paul’s expressive face. “You look like you’re contemplating something serious.”</p><p>“Maybe,” Stamets responded. “Do, do you think it’s too soon?” he asked cryptically.</p><p>That million watt smile re-emerged, eyes crinkling at the corners. “No, Paul, it’s not,” Hugh’s light tone belayed all Stamets fears.</p><p>“I’m falling, Dear Doctor,” Paul managed though the constriction in his throat, “hard and fast.”</p><p>“Already did that,” Hugh offered, accompanied by a quick peck on the lips, “by the time you agreed to a second date. I would have chased you down on Deneva if you hadn’t comm’ed me the minute you got back to your lab. Come on, we’re holding up the line.”</p><p>Snorting, Paul found himself in an unusual position. Hugh’s hand warm, clasping, surrounding his, Dr. Culber guided him directly to the exhibition hall containing Willem de Kooning’s work. “A first-generation Abstract Expressionist, he maintained a commitment to the figurative tradition, developing a signature style that fused vivid colour and aggressive paint handling with deconstructed images of the female form—a then-controversial body of works that has become known as his ‘Women’,” Hugh’s soft tone intruded on Paul’s internal thoughts.</p><p>“These,” Paul pointed to the nearest painting, which he attempted to make out, “are his early works.”</p><p>“His later style is quite distinct,” Hugh agreed. “Some say it resulted from clearer thinking. If you look on the other wall, see the sparsely painted canvas?”</p><p>“The very colourful one?” Paul offered, his brow tightening in concentration. He didn’t mind looking at artworks, but this style seemed chaotic and far to abstract for his logical mind trained in pure scientific methods.</p><p>“We’ll get too them before closing,” Hugh grinned, “promise.”</p><p>“So long as I’m with you,” Paul make this frustration known with a soft growl of displeasure.</p><p>“You don’t need to know everything about the artist or style,” Hugh warned, his voice softening into something resembling understanding, “to enjoy the work. Don’t over think it, Paul. Just hold my hand and tell me what you see, what you enjoy about the work.”</p><p>“Or you could tell me,” Paul retorted.</p><p>It drew a sharp look from Hugh. One look at the open, honest face and he realised, Paul Stamets always chose his words carefully. “You want to see them,” Culber’s body vibrated with pleasure, “from my point of view. Well, let’s take this one. It’s called Woman 1. At the time aficionados of his work were devastated by the inclusion of a recognizable figure. Critics also perceived this painting as an aggressive and violent depiction of women, saying it was degrading.”</p><p>“Controversial,” Paul once again had that adorable ‘thought’ face, as he attempted to see what Hugh described. “It looks a little like the Venus of Willendorf.”</p><p>“I think it supposed to,” Hugh agreed.</p><p>“You know, those figurines are believed to have been worn as amulets to help achieve weight gain,” Paul stated before shivering. “Some even think they promoted a positive body type that would keep women warmer in order to live through the Ice Age. It’s hard to conceive of humanity in those periods of time. To be so obsessed with the physical.”</p><p>“To the point of labelling, describing, discriminating against each other,” Hugh agreed. “I think that is the point of this work, to be unpleasant, confronting, to make us think, question, reassess our values. It wasn’t long after de Kooning that humanity started genetic manipulation.”</p><p>“At least WWIII lead to a better society,” Paul remarked</p><p>“But look at the cost, to the human race, to our planet!” Hugh became impassioned. “If only we’d taken the foresight of people like de Kooning, depictions in art and creativity, listened to what they attempted to tell us, maybe Earth would have transition in a far less violent way.”</p><p>“Maybe,” Paul felt his lips curing up into a smile. “I love seeing you like this, Hugh. This isn’t just paint on a canvas to you, is it, my Dear Doctor.”</p><p>“No, it’s not,” Culber suddenly felt both embarrassed to show his inner emotions and vulnerable Paul had seen into his deepest thoughts.</p><p>“Tell me about this one,” Paul pulled his boyfriend to the next display. “I want to hear everything you have to say.”</p><p>Eyes going wide, Hugh realised the very great gift he’d just been handed. Paul, honest to a fault, had just handed him his heart. This beautiful, intelligent, sometimes hard to work out man chose him as the object of his affections. Knowing he felt the same way, Dr Culber understood the future wouldn’t be easy, but he intended to hang on for the ride.</p><hr/><p>And the rest, as they say, it up to your imagination.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The End.</p><p>Please let me know what you thought of this work. It's the first I've finished in the genera.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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